


how am i gonna be an optimist about this

by americandy



Category: The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americandy/pseuds/americandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is kinda done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how am i gonna be an optimist about this

When Gatsby comes to my door in the middle of the night, I know he is broken. His hair is in a frightful state down across his forehead and the sleeves of his beautiful shirt are pushed up past his elbows. A sheen of sweat makes his face glow in the light from the moon. 

“I can’t have her, Nick, I can’t. I've done everything. And I can’t have her.” He looked absolutely dreadful but my well of sympathy for his unrequited love for her had dried up about a month ago when, while pressed together against the wall of his first floor library, he’d pulled back from my kisses to ask if Daisy had inquired about him recently. I’d left him then and this is the first time I’d seen him since. 

“What was the final nail in the coffin?” I humored him. He wasn't leaving until he was allowed the opportunity to vent. I stepped aside to allow him into my house as he began to tell the tale of how he knew it was really over this time. I stopped listening before he began speaking. I love my cousin, but she is not a person so much as an image of what a person seems like… not a thing to fall in love with, but a thing to love. Gatsby had made the mistake of falling in love with her, a kind of sentiment she was unable to return. 

I’m not a stupid man; I know that I am in a similar kind of situation. I am, however holding out hope that Gatsby isn't a lost cause. He simply can’t be. He’s what I need and I think that I could be what he needs. 

He stopped talking and came to me. “Nick, how is a man supposed to deal with this? How are you supposed to move on when you have put all of your eggs in one basket, and all for naught?”

I laughed and put a hand on his shoulder. “Liquor, my friend. I’m quite experienced when it comes to drowning sorrows.” A kind of warmth spread from my fingertips to his shoulder, it felt like a moment that people would read about in history books. Gatsby rolled his head back and I removed my hand, wandering over to the bar to pour us whiskey. 

“Tonight is a night for whiskey… for men and cigars and sorrow concealed by smoking guns and gambling.”  
“What sorrows have you possibly had, old sport? You’re in the summer of your life.” Gatsby had no idea. I stopped what I was doing and made real eye contact with him for the first time in a few forevers. 

“You’re the biggest cause of sorrow in my life at the moment, James. Thus the constant drinking and things. You. You’re the one, I think.”

“Nick, surely you don’t mean that. Don’t be ugly.” I cupped the side of his face with my hand, swiping my thumb across his lip.

“You’re the ugliest person I know.”


End file.
